Short Divide: Over the Back! Decisions, Decisions.

Friday's forecast indicated a strong, pre-frontal day with SW winds 20+ mph, and a respectable soaring forecast. The wildcard seemed to be the "30% chance of afternoon thunderstorms".

Upon arriving on launch, the wind was coming straight in at 25 mph, gusting to 30. I also noticed some building cumulus clouds to the north into Idaho, but they didn't seem to be overdeveloping. Two series of lee-side lenticular wave-like clouds high over the Cache Valley indicated some high winds aloft.

By the time I was almost set up, Cody arrived and volunteered to drive chase for me! The strong conditions caused me to think twice about launching, but by 2 pm I had decided that the conditions were not overdeveloping and were well within my level of experience and my glider's capabilities. I had a safe, one-step launch, and my vario immediately began chirping happily as I quickly climbed out in front of launch. Within ten minutes I had benched up to the upper mountain, and was still climbing through 10K' in 1,500 fpm lift. It was a hot, 90+ degree day, and a brush fire about 10 miles to the SW made for somewhat smokey skies.

Looking down on Gunsight Peak from 12,000' and north into Idaho at the start of the cloud street..

I had very little time to take more than one or two pictures, as I had to focus on staying in the lift in the obviously strong conditions. The top of Gunsight Peak is about 8,200', so about 10K is plenty of altitude to safely go over the back without any indication of lee-side rotor or turbulence, but I knew I would be better off to climb as high as I could over the mountain and leave in lift. I found a nice thermal out front which took me over 12,000', and I realized that it topped out at a developing cloud overhead. I turned on my oxygen (for the first time this year!), and radioed to Cody that I was "Going over the back" to stay in the lift and follow the drifting cloud to the NE. The drift speed of the cloud didn't allow me to take the time to circle, so I was basically flying straight at about minimum sink speed to stay in the lift under the cloud.

I had already mentally prepared myself to go XC solo, so having Cody to talk to on the radio as a chase driver was a nice bonus! There is a magical excitement about making the commitment to leave your home flying site, and set out on a cross-country adventure. I had "high hopes" as I continued to climb and drift toward the cloud street to the north. Then, instead of continuing to build, the cloud I was following just fell apart, and the lift was gone! I was too far away to try to get back to the upper mountain for a "mulligan", so I pulled on full VG, and pointed toward the start of the cloud street at best glide speed. Unfortunately, I found nothing but sink and the ground came up to meet me before I made it to any usable lift.


Part of the challenge of flying cross country is being able to select a suitable, unknown landing location, and then safely "put it down" in less than ideal conditions. From thousands of feet up - or even a few hundred feet, the terrain can look quite flat and innocuous. You have to learn how to determine the slope, wind speed, direction and vegetation. What looks like a nice, flat grassy field with a few short bushes might actually be downhill sloping waist-high basetube-grabbing unfriendly sagebrush! As you get closer and closer to landing, a split second decision can make all of the difference between a safe landing and an easy retrieval or a broken downtube and a long walk out.

When flying XC, you are faced with numerous simultaneous decisions requiring immediate attention while also trying to focus on flying. It can be both physically and mentally demanding, and is not nearly as relaxing as just boating around your home flying site, waiting for the glass-off. I have great respect for the Pro's who fly high and far day after day under some white-knuckle conditions often found in competitions.

What may seem like an inconsequential choice at the time, may impact the rest of the flight - or even the rest of your life. A series of good decisions linked together can make all the difference in a long, safe flight. One or two bad choices could lead to a short, scary flight. Cody and I have talked about how occasionally, we get away with making an unsafe decision, either out of ignorance or because we somehow justified the risk in our head. Talking through and de-briefing such scary circumstances can help me recognize my flawed thinking, and avoid confusing "getting away with something" for a "good choice". Using oxygen at higher altitudes not only has obvious physiological benifits, but also improves mental sharpness and allows me to better think things through.

So, as my landing options began to narrow, I verified the wind direction and scanned the terrain, identifying potential hazards: powerlines, fences, irrigation wheel lines, trees and a farmhouse. I could tell from the trees, grass, and my glider drift that the wind at ground level was at least 15-20 mph, enough to create some nasty mechanical turbulence if there was any upwind obstacle on my final approach. I saw a recently cut hay field that would have worked, but it had a big sprinkler line in the way. Then I saw a recently plowed field next to it, but I wasn't sure if it was just planted or not. I was running out of options and altitude, so I picked a nice uphill, upwind grassy slope right next to the Weston Canyon Road which worked out great, and had an easy landing in the stiff south wind. Cody was there in about 10 minutes for a speedy retrieval. The GPS said I was about 12 miles from launch - disappointing for a day with so much promise, but nonetheless, a fun, safe flight!


Thanks for driving, Cody! Next time you fly and I'll drive :-)
Airtime: 1 hour